Ballet of Roses
by A Spark of Inspiration
Summary: Art - even that motivated by the heart of a single moment - seeks to capture in imagination a false or fleeting reality. Umibara no Reika, urged by her younger sister's sacrifice, turns from her village and seeks to build a haven for the rest of her bloodline. Should the Akatsuki offer her a world of purity, where her cause for hatred, like art, is fleeting, who is she to reject?
1. Chapter 1

A small child clung to her leg, palms flung upwards to deflect the rain, eyes wide in unnatural wisdom. Reika watched him in awe. His eyes- bright, bright blue- stood out in the misted terrain, dusted with depths of tanzanite, the mark of their family's forbidden bloodline limit. He caught her staring. Tilting his head in innocent, nearly childlike wonder, he met her gaze, and she forced herself to remember, that heir or not, he was still her younger brother, still a baby, still untainted by the twisted nature of her village and clan. "Sister.." Yuichi's tiny voice was a sigh, nearly drowned by the storm, and she forced herself to look away, already knowing his question. "Momma and Poppa… Where are they?"

"A mission, Yui." It took everything Reika had to keep her voice level. "They'll be gone for a long time. Let's go home to Ayame. She's waiting."

He nodded, beginning to turn towards the direction of their house, missing the hard glare Reika aimed towards the Mizukage's abode. Ayame, her twin, wasn't so understanding. The clan's bloodline limit was passed through patriarchs- from father to daughter and son- the mother of the children was irrelevant in its inheritance. Her parents therefore coddled Yuichi, the sole male heir to the limit, ignoring the talents of Reika and Ayame. Aya, hot-blooded and hateful by nature, turned the neglect into bitter detest, rejecting their uncaring parents, despising Yui, and turning all her love and affection to Reika.

Yui began to shiver in discomfort, pressing against Reika further, and Reika noticed they were approaching their small house. Sure enough, as if to justify Yui's fear, Ayame opened the door, eyes bright upon seeing her twin. "Reika! Come in, you'll catch something in the rain."

Yui hid behind her. Smiling, Reika picked him up, pretending not to see the shift in Aya's eyes, shooing them both back inside. "Yui, I need to talk to Aya. Go take a nap, please?"

Ever eager to leave Ayame's cold gaze, the child hopped down from her embrace, skipping down the hall, and Reika softly closed the curtains, locking the door to the study as she turned to her younger sister. "It's the Mizukage again. I'm afraid… maybe Mother and Father won't make it back this time."

"This is ridiculous." Ayame huffed, her thin fingers reaching to graze her forehead protector, the steel engraved with the scars of her increasingly impossible missions. "It's the brat, isn't it? For that stupid brat, they throw themselves into missions akin to suicide. Yet.. for you, and me…"

"Ayame… I had a theory." Reika bit her lip, gauging her sister's reaction, yet when facing her, Ayame's eyes were soft and understanding as ever. "Father was the clan's only survivor. He started a new life, and met Mother.. Yet the Mizukage began pointing them at difficult missions, especially during Mother's pregnancies."

"At least that's what he told us."

"Right. But I thought it was odd. The Mizukage is certainly targeting our family. But how did he know to target us? What told him we possessed the bloodline limit?"

"Reika, I wasn't kidding." Ayame got up, reaching into a cupboard, absentmindedly mixing ingredients into a bowl. "We did see Father go on missions when we were young. But they increased when the brat was born. If the Mizukage really despises our blood that much, daughters should be no concern to him. But at the birth of Yuichi, a son… likely our family became a threat again."

Reika suddenly felt faint. A threat. If a Kage saw them as a threat, they would likely not live long. Within moments of the realization, her mind began turning, and Ayame reached out, grasping her hands, identical blue eyes searching for the cause of the panic. Reika's voice was shaky. "Ayame, we have to do something. We can't wait to die. We're both jounin. Surely.. after our parents, the Mizukage will look to us… Then.."

"Reika, let's speak to the Mizukage."

She looked up, almost in disbelief, but Ayame was absolutely serious. Mindlessly, the younger turned back to the baking at hand, as if to conceal her fears. Reika winced. "Ayame, we'll die."

"No. Our bloodline causes the Mizukage fear. We're strong, Reika. He's afraid of being killed, of the village knowing that our family is more worthy for the throne than he. He knows our clan, and he's afraid of us."

"That's why we shouldn't speak to him. We should take Yuichi and run."

"That's the thing." Taking calming, deep breaths, Ayame tossed ingredients into her mixture, beating them restlessly, as a form of stress relief. "He knows we're strong. The two of us are daughters. We can't pass on the blood. If we renounce our family, renounce Yui, and promise to serve him, he'll spare us."

"No." Reika's voice was barely above a whisper. Yes, Ayame was important to her, and within a heartbeat, she would give her life if it meant hers. But, at the price of their parents and Yuichi, it was almost too much to ask. "Mother, Yuichi, Father. We can't do that, Aya. It means leaving them behind."

"They saw us as tools to protect Yui. And Yui is the spoiled child who allowed it. They never cared about us, and I learned to hate them. But you, Reika. I want and need you to live. That's my goal, and right now, I'll go to hell to accomplish it."

"Ayame, give me a day. I'm the older sister. Let me protect you." Reika was shaking, but her plan was clear. The Mizukage was the root of their problems. If he was gone, Yuichi would be safe. Had he been gone, Ayame would have been happier, carefree, not so bitter and callous. If he was gone.. The thought resounded, again and again. Distracted by it, Reika failed to notice Ayame's bright eyes, the gleam of an idea that would ruin and save everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuichi, chin underneath his blankets, buried himself in whatever warmth the small cabin could offer. His eyes were tightly closed, and his tiny body was wracked with shivers, lodged in a restless sleep. Reika watched him. His room was scattered with pictures, scrolls, and broken toys, the mark of a child forced to bear the weight of a clan's legacy. She reached to him, and he stirred. _There's no doubt I'll die. If not by the Mizukage, then surely by the village for killing him. For a shinobi, death is always, always inevitable. It's also the ultimate payment. If, with mine, Ayame and Yuichi can be loved and happy, I really wouldn't mind._ "Yui." Reika spoke softly, careful not to wake the child. "Forgive Ayame. After I get rid of the hatred on our clan, you'll be free from your pressure."

Quickly, she left, grabbing kunai and shuriken off the counter, explosive tags littering her pouch. With the rain, she wouldn't need to prepare water for her bloodline limit. It was almost scary how supportive the weather was of the upcoming murder. Ayame watched her move wordlessly, half-wistfully, half in worry. It concerned Reika how quiet she was. Usually, there would be a barrage of sisterly concern, of lectures of coming home. Reika didn't complain. The more that was said, the more she would remember that someone in this world loved and needed her, and the more she would regret her choice. Reika forced a smile. "Goodnight, Ayame. Sweet dreams."

"Reika… I love you. You know that, right?"

"Love you, too." With that, Reika shut the door.

Ayame's words didn't really cross her mind. Reika's blue eyes flared, the tanzanite streaks growing in depth and number, and the rain swirled around her, almost in bloodthirsty anticipation. She let her hands wander to her paintbrush, hidden beneath layers and layers of knives. If she was lucky, at the very least, she would be granted an artistic death.

The Mizukage was disgustingly well-guarded. Blinded by anger, by a sort of desperation, Reika used her family's art in the open for the first time. If the Mizukage knew, then the Mizukage knew. She figured there was no reason to hide it. Her paintbrush danced, the tip holding water, and she painted on air visions of torment, of unleashed power and hellish detest. Her art wrapped around the guards in unwavering genjutsu, and the figures drawn in water crystallized to tangible weapons. Unable to resist, the blades of the sea pierced the men. In the end, over their bodies, lay droplets of water, scattered as rose petals, the only evidence she ever left after her assassinations. Umibara no Reika. Reika of the Sea Roses. Even if her village didn't know of her abilities, they knew her mark, and they named her for it.

There was a distinct feeling of dread, of something wrong, as soon as Reika walked the abandoned hallways. A harrowing voice, accusing and sardonic, rang clear from the Mizukage's door, and Reika nearly broke the door down in fear. There stood Ayame. A spear of water was encased in her heart, and Aya was clearly struggling to breathe, yet still held her arrogant, haughty tone as she spat at the Mizukage. "Reika is coming. Reika, Reika.. For Reika, I will kill you."

Ayame had clearly wounded the Mizukage, though he laughed, and turned to look at Reika. "Dear Ayame. Your sister Reika is here."

"Ayame!" Without thought, Reika rushed forward, clutching her sister close, wincing at the red that stained her arms. "You'll be alright… I'll get you help, ok? Just hang on for a bit."

"Reika.."

"I'm so, so sorry. If it meant your life, I should have agreed. We should have run. I don't want you to go… Aya, please."

"Touching." Still haughty, the Mizukage took a step forward, watching the sisters with contempt, eyes glaring at Ayame's blue irises. "That bloodline.. That dirty, underserving bloodline… The Mist's power was mine. It always was."

Reika almost laughed. "Our family had no ambition. We merely wanted to pass our art on. But for your greed, Yuichi lives the pressured life of an heir. For your selfishness, Ayame and I grew up ignored and unloved. For your fear, Ayame will lose her life." Tears tumbled down her cheeks, mixing with the blood staining her arms, and Ayame smiled, though it was weak, and her eyes were losing their light.

"You tell him, Sis." Ayame clutched at Reika's cheek, at her tears, as if wordlessly asking her not to cry. "I'll be going first. Goodnight. I hope your dreams are sweet." With that, the light in her eyes faded away.

Cold anger rose in Reika. Ayame, rejected and hurt, became callous and unloving. Lost, she had turned to Reika, given every ounce of love she had to her elder sister. For Reika, she had continued to stay by her horrid family. For Reika, she had tolerated Yuichi. For Reika, she bit her tongue against her parents, and for Reika, she abandoned her honor and made herself a sacrifice. It was all for Reika. Now, this man before her mocked her honor for his greed. In Ayame's death, Reika would honor her. Grim with devastation, she gripped her paintbrush, dipped in Ayame's blood, her conviction set. _Ayame, I will use your blood to kill this man._

Her wrist flicking smoother than with water, Reika brushed layers and layers of perfect genjutsu, dodging the man's attempts to stop her. A family of prodigies. Today, she would prove that he had cause to fear them.

* * *

Covered in blood, Reika laughed softly, brushing off in disgust the man's twisted essence. Ah, the Mizukage indeed. Even Reika couldn't walk out uninjured. Red droplets lay scattered, this time almost like true rose petals, and Reika laughed at the irony. Umibara no Reika. Her plan was in motion.

Gently raising Ayame, she strode to the platform, ignoring the questioning looks of the shinobi, of the people wondering after the Mizukage. "I, Umibara no Reika, have taken the life of the Mizukage. Though my sister, Ayame, attempted to stop me, and save the village, I have killed her. Come… take revenge for your leader, and for your fallen heroine!" Painfully, she cast Ayame down to the crowd, and as she predicted, the people crowded around her, revering her as a martyr to Reika's evil. With this, everything was complete. Ayame would be loved as a hero, Yuichi would be free from his suffocating pressure, and her family would be safe from the Mizukage's greed. Reika's honor, and eventually her life, hunted down as a missing-nin, was a small price to pay. She leapt from the village with her last bouts of energy, attempting to shake off her pursuers, her thoughts and prayers to Ayame's happiness. _Ah, dear little sister. My only wish now is to join you._


	3. Chapter 3

Reika had drifted asleep. Concealed by the pressing mist, she had collapsed from exhaustion into a heap of leaves, clutching a glass bottle, filled with Ayame's blood. Her younger sister's essence, strong with their bloodline limit, under Reika's paintbrush, blossomed to uncontested power. As if the two of them really were fighting side by side. The raw power of Ayame's blood, along with Reika's chakra guidance, was able to take down the Mizukage. Unconsciously, Reika clutched the bottle closer. _Ayame, I will protect this bottle with my life. Fight alongside me, as you would have if you lived._

A streak of bright blue crossed her sleep-riddled vision. Groggily, she turned towards it, meeting the blurry figure, blue-eyed, along with hair the same rich, golden color of Ayame's. Before thinking, Reika burst into a smile, and reached for the shadow, voice filled with unrestrained joy. "Ayame!"

"Hm?"

The voice of a man succeeded in waking her up completely. Upon closer inspection, she was facing a boy, with only minimal resemblance to her precious sister. Though his eyes were blue, they were bright to the spectrum of green, a still-life painting of the sea's shifting waves, so unlike Ayame's tanzanite-embedded irises. She looked away, half in embarrassment, half in crushing disappointment. The man seemed to have a companion. He looked behind him, meeting the gaze of an odd, hunched back figure, expression carved into a scowl, glaring at Reika with impatience. "Deidara. Leave her or kill her. We don't have time to waste."

"She'll go out with a bang! Hm." Smirking, the man reached into his pouches, his hand twitching in odd movement, and reading the pattern of attack, Reika leapt backwards, paintbrush in hand. _These people aren't worthy of Ayame_ , she thought with disgust. Her paintbrush found itself dampened by the nearing puddle, and her bloodline limit gleamed in her eyes. She raised her weapon, and the man smiled wider, pulling out globs of white clay.

"I'll make your passing into art." Mocking his enthusiasm, she began to swipe in air with her paintbrush, bringing to crystallization the darkest scenes of Ayame's death. Rain, loneliness, restless loss. The three themes resonated into art, her painting surrounding the two men in genjutsu, as she once more began to paint spears of water. _The weapons that killed Ayame_ , she thought, _would be an honor for these two._ As she brought her paintbrush down, the blue-eyed man twitched, uncovering the eye his hair concealed, the pupils contracting. "Ah…" In understanding Reika danced back. He can resist illusions.

"Your genjutsu is broken, hm. A sorry excuse for art. Art is an explosion!" He tossed his clay creations at her, and she raised her paintbrush, coating them with water, and shielding herself from the dampened blast. An idea struck her. The explosions had scattered the water, filling the air with the tool of her art, and instantly, ignoring his look of surprise, Reika aimed the droplets at the man. Collecting in the scattered air, they grew to water-kunai, pointed to the man's neck. "Hm."

"I won't kill you. Just don't bother me." Still urged to properly grieve Ayame, Reika slowly lowered her paintbrush. The genjutsu around the hunched man dispelled, and he cast a glance at the water droplets surrounding Deidara in aqua knives. His tail flicked, and his deep voice cut through her conscious.

"Umibara no Reika."

"The Mizukage's murderer last night, hm?"

Reika furrowed her eyebrows, curious. Within a night, it was clear her crime had spread to other villages, even to the odd men in the black cloaks. "How did you know of me?"

"Bingo book. One of the instances where a single murder can grant you the status of S-rank." The hunched man rasped, and Reika shivered at his tone. There was something unsettling about him. For comfort, she grasped her bottle.

"I thought we were fighting."

Deidara glanced at her quizzically, and the hunch-man flicked his tail. "We have no interest in fighting you. You're not small fry, like I assumed. No need to waste time. Come, brat. We're going."

"We're just gonna leave her? Hm."

"Leader will be interested in you." His bony, scorpion-like appendage flicked again, almost in a hypnotizing movement, and Reika fell back into a fighting stance. Surely, they wouldn't fight her here. Judging from the size of Deidara's creations, he had been holding back. If he fought seriously, with all the clay in his pouch, her exhausted state would have little chance. But, nonetheless..

"I won't go willingly. My life is now my own." _And for the honor of Ayame._

"You're in little state to argue, brat. You can't fight us both."

For once, Reika adopted Ayame's bottomless arrogance, raising her chin and coating her voice in haughtiness. Though he was right, in a fight, she was taught never to allow the enemy to know her weakness. "I killed the Mizukage. Are you certain?"

The hunch-man seemed to chuckle, though it came out as a low growl. "I was the murderer of the Third Kazekage. If you had trouble with the brat, you'll die to my puppets."

The clues pieced together. Shivering, Reika aimed a low glare at the man, the name slowly arriving in her mind. Her voice, as much as she willed it otherwise, trembled. "Akasuna no Sasori."

The scorpion tail flicked in mocking menace. "That's right, brat. So, will you come with us peacefully?"


	4. Chapter 4

Reika, by her lonesome, without use of her kekkei genkai, had ordinary strength, ordinary stamina, a bit of speed, though nothing to boast, brought only to remarkable note by her intellect. Ayame, hot-blooded and impulsive, shared her gift for analysis, both bright in mind to the title of prodigious. Yuichi and their parents barely held in a candle to their logics. Again, Reika felt post mortem connection to her twin, a soft, grim understanding of Ayame's hatred for their family.

Yuichi's innocence cut the descent into Ayame's mindset. He inherited the bloodline- for her selfish parents, that was enough. Reika and Ayame, jounin at 17, infamously high scorers of the Mist's intelligence exam, killers of the Mizukage, had gone utterly ignored, in favor of the bloodline Yuichi could pass on. Reika felt a self-defacing smile stretch her lips. She was not pure and kind.

The night she encouraged Ayame to, alongside her, burn the results of the intelligence exam and lie to her parents that they were merely above average, was, in hindsight, out of selfishness. She had convinced herself it was for Yuichi's sake. She had lied to her own motive, telling herself and her sister that their parents were burdened enough, and that they didn't need the guilt of giving up care to their genius twins. If they didn't know Ayame and Reika were so bright, they wouldn't feel bad for ignoring them, Reika had reasoned. They wouldn't have to worry. But, in reality, Reika had been terrified. Rather than fearing her parents would worry, she had been afraid to find out how much they _didn't_ worry- how much they were willing to ignore about Ayame and herself in order to turn a blind eye.

Fear, selfishness. For Ayame's dark, influenced beliefs, Reika had to play a saint. For Yuichi, for the bloodline, for the family. Now, with the ultimate sacrifice, all three were safe. She wanted to live the way Ayame had always yearned for, the way she herself, in the dark nights, her only company being her cursed eyes and a mirror, softly admitted she wanted. Akasuna no Sasori.

Hungry for knowledge, she had known the boy's story since his defection. Dead parents, with only his puppets for company, the genius child had turned his toys into seasoned weapons for killing. It brought her to the bedroom she and Ayame shared, reminded her of the art they had developed together. Neither of her parents used paintbrushes. The ability to control water was enough for their art. But Reika and Ayame sought more. Their toys, the cursed, yet compelling kekkei genkai, became a mark of killing. Umibara no Reika. Umiryuu no Ayame. Reika of the Sea Rose and Ayame of the Sea Dragon.

Reika missed Ayame. _Shall I follow this lonely child? Are his puppets really so different from our brushes?_ She felt her eyes softening at the thought, and the puppet shifted, uncomfortable at the change in gaze. Reika returned her brushes to her bag. "Ayame," She replied softly. The name was nostalgic, yet bitterly peaceful on her lips. "Ayame would be happy if I found a place we could belong. Take me with you."

"The Akatsuki will welcome your talents, brat." His grim, callous voice held a soft edge, and Reika remembered his story. Ah, this organization surely gave the love he craved from his parents. A sense of belonging, of appreciation, for his art of strength, painted from his childhood tragedy. "Now hurry. I don't like to wait."

"Of course." Reika felt a smile through her dampening eyes, seeing Ayame in him. She tried to change her tone, for a moment, trying to forget her loss, her abandonment, the village after her. "Akasuna no Sasori. Please introduce me to your companion."

"The brat's Deidara."

"I can introduce myself! Hm." Miffed, the sculptor stopped mindlessly shaping his odd clay, and looked up, his bright eyes wide with curiosity. "I'm a creator of true art."

"Ah." Understanding, in genuine interest, Reika pried the Mist sigil off her head, using a kunai to swipe the center, mirroring their crossed out indications of loyalty. _Mist, I'm letting you go. I'll find somewhere that appreciates us._

"If you two want to talk, do so while we're walking. Pein's waiting."

Deidara gave her a helpless glance, then began to follow, continuing his lecture on art, as Reika began picking at the rough edges of her forehead protector. His voice was bright, almost childlike and happy as he rattled on, and Reika could hardly believe he, like her, had committed some heinous crime. "So, who's Ayame? Hm."

The question stirred her, though she maintained her smile. "More importantly, will this Pein accept me? His name suggests otherwise."

"He has this vision of true peace. But I was forced to join, hm. He's recruiting S-ranked criminals, so you qualify, no question."

"Is that so?" Reika smiled again. "I don't believe in true peace, but I don't think it's a bad thing to point efforts to."

"Apparently Leader's some sort of God. Hm." Over-dramatically, Deidara raised his arms for emphasis. "You don't believe in it?"

"War stems from differing opinions. When people have diverging goals, they fight. If humans have pride in their individuality, and individuality is what separates us from animals, then war, which comes from it, could be called human nature." Reika looked up to the lapsing silence, awkwardly, and the shuffling Sasori turned to glance at her, almost as if wordlessly complaining she talked too much. Deidara, however, watched her with a keen eye. He was bright, she realized. Much more bright than anyone knew. "But there's nice sides to human individuality."

"Like art! Hm."

"Exactly!" Happily, Reika almost skipped a step. Deidara's eyes brightened, that beautiful, sea-blue glowing in pride, and Reika felt her smile become genuine. "Art is art because of the few individuals, different from the crowd, that can make and appreciate it."

"Brat, you're too happy for a criminal."

"Sorry." Unapologetic, Reika clutched at her bottle, her thoughts filled with guilt, yet an odd sense of elation. Ayame, they accept me. "Is…is there a way I can see the condition of my village?"

"Guilt, brat?" Sasori stopped in his tracks for a moment to stare at her, incomprehensible emotion reflected in his lifeless eyes, and Reika managed to shake her head, though it was only in half truth. Guilt? Perhaps. It was her fault Ayame had fallen. But, at the same time, for Yuichi, she wondered if she had done the right thing. Though perhaps the child saw no safety in Ayame's hateful glare, Yuichi had always wanted her to love him, the same way Aya indiscriminately adored Reika. For Reika to reveal herself as a traitor to her family and village.. For him to hear that Reika had murdered Ayame…

"More like curiosity."

"Hm. My man Sasori has spies. Maybe he could…"

"Brat. That's not for you to say." Sasori's tail flicked menacingly, and Reika held her arms up in surrender, though his anger was clearly more directed to Deidara. "When you're accepted by Pein, we talk. Until then, keep quiet."

* * *

A/N

Hello, Dear Readers~

At first, I wanted to write something for Deidara. Then, I began to see how Reika and Sasori could relate. In the review section, I'd love opinions for which way this story should romantically tilt. :D I love suggestions and ways to improve my writing. So please review~

-Spark


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